


Their Dance

by dragonwings948



Series: A Night on Darillium [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Dancing, Episode: 2015 Xmas The Husbands of River Song, Episode: s07e05 The Angels Take Manhattan, F/M, Feels, Light Angst, Memories, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Multiple, Romance, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:35:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21695491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonwings948/pseuds/dragonwings948
Summary: River and the Doctor begin their 24 year night with dinner, dancing, and discussions about Manhattan that they’re not quite ready for.
Relationships: Eleventh Doctor/River Song, The Doctor/River Song, Twelfth Doctor/River Song
Series: A Night on Darillium [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563853
Comments: 6
Kudos: 54





	Their Dance

“Sunglasses? Seriously?” River leaned her elbow on the table and cupped her chin in her hand, shaking her head. 

“They’re extremely useful, not to mention stylish.” The Doctor produced a pair of black Ray Bans from inside his jacket and grinned as he donned them. The ridiculous sunglasses and the Doctor’s wide, toothy smile made for an altogether absurd sight, and River couldn’t help but laugh. 

“And you thought a sonic trowel was ridiculous!” 

“Pfft.” The Doctor removed the glasses, set them on the table, and rolled his eyes. 

River smiled as she reflected on how similar he really was to the Doctor she knew best. Fezzes, bow ties, and now sunglasses. “You really haven’t changed much at all, have you?” 

The Doctor frowned and raised his eyebrows. “Haven’t I?” 

She met his gaze and noticed, not for the first time, that no matter how many versions of the Doctor she met, he always had the same eyes. Eyes that harbored pain, loss, and the heavy weight of the universe like no other pair of eyes in existence. Wild, intense eyes that seemed like they could burn a hole through a person if they wanted to. 

How had she missed those eyes she would know anywhere? 

Their waiter appeared, interrupting River’s thoughts. He set down a steaming plate in front of her, though she honestly couldn’t remember what she had ordered. Though she knew that after all she’d been through in the past day she was probably hungry, her stomach was still filled with butterflies left over from the Doctor’s soft kisses and heartfelt confessions. Food was honestly the last thing on her mind. 

River did, however, notice that the waiter stuttered and grinned much too wide as he asked them if everything looked to their satisfaction. She glanced in askance at the Doctor, but he gave nothing away. River considered that he really must have pulled some strings to reserve this balcony; it had to be one of the most sought-after tables in the universe. However, as soon as the waiter was out of sight, the Doctor began the conversation first.

“So, River Song.” He picked up his wine glass and examined it, turning it around in his hand. “What have you been up to?” With a degree of hesitance he took a sip of the crimson liquid, made a face, and then set it back down. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his nostrils flared and brow furrowed in disgust. 

River covered her mouth with her hand to hide her chuckle. She could handle the childishness of the young, silly Doctor she used to know, but the same attitude on this serious, lined face was just too much to handle. He seemed like such a powerful, stoic figure, but he kept reminding her that that he was still her Doctor—just in an older body. 

The Doctor glanced at her, an eyebrow raised in question. “Do I not want to know?” 

River shook herself out of her reverie. Everything about this: his new face, having unrushed time to spend with him, eating  _ dinner  _ with him for God’s sake; it was all too different than anything she had experienced and she wasn’t quite used to it yet. 

She smiled and raised her eyebrows. “Probably not. You’ve never really approved of what I get up to.” 

“Beheading kings and getting rich?” the Doctor queried with a half-hearted chuckle, though a serious curiosity shone in his eyes. 

River had almost entirely forgotten about King Hydroflax and the diamond (where  _ had  _ that got to, anyway?) in the recent rush of emotions. And remembering that mission stirred up memories from even further back that she had been trying so hard to repress. 

“River.” The Doctor stared at her, eyebrows furrowed in concern. His eyes softened in understanding as she met his gaze. 

“When he was reading your diary…he said the last place you had been to was Manhattan.” 

River had trained herself to put up a wall at the thought or mention of that city. She was too much like the Doctor, she had often thought: never wanting anyone to know her true motivations or feelings. 

But this new Doctor had changed the rules. Rather than closing off his emotions,  _ this _ Doctor had showed no hesitance in telling and showing her how he really felt. 

Maybe it was because of this, or maybe it was because she had missed him too much, but either way, River Song found herself spilling out the truth before she could even think about what she was saying.

“It was all just a distraction, you know: Hydroflax, the diamond, even Ramon. A fun challenge to keep me occupied.” But even as she said it, a terrible feeling of sadness washed over her, memories of that fateful day coming to the forefront of her mind. 

River cleared her thoughts and watched the Doctor’s reaction. His eyes grew darker, his jaw became taut. No doubt his memories echoed hers. He let out a great sigh through his nose, mouth pressed into a hard line, and River identified this as his “thinking face” (even between two different faces, some things never changed). She knew that only two things could come out of his mouth: the truth, or a quick change in subject. While she had earlier reflected on the openness of this new face, this was a subject she expected him to avoid. 

And yet, speaking slowly and carefully, as if the words were fragile, he said in a low rumble, “I wanted you to stay.” His eyes remained glued to the table and his fingers drummed silently on the tablecloth. 

The honesty of his admittance twisted River’s gut with guilt, and she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment so she could remember her defense. “I know.” The words came out as a shaky exhale of air, and River swallowed before continuing. “You and I had to deal with our grief in our own ways. With both of us so upset, I couldn’t stay. You know I couldn’t.” 

The Doctor’s stare could have bored a hole through the poor table. River sighed. She hadn’t wanted tonight to be like this. She composed herself and lightened her tone, deciding to move on from the topic for now. “Well, I suppose we both got something out of it in the end. You, a companion, and me, a diamond.” She looked down at her food and finally took a small bite of some sort of meat covered in white sauce.

_ Not bad,  _ she thought. 

After a few more moments of silence, River dared to look up at the Doctor. He poked his fork around in his plate of pasta, eyes intent on the progress. From this angle, she couldn’t discern the expression on his face. 

“What did you do with the diamond, by the way?” River asked, hoping to break the serious mood that had come over him. 

The Doctor glanced up in surprise, and a flicker of relief shone in his eyes. “It’s in good hands,” he assured her, cautiously lifting a forkful of pasta to his mouth. 

River raised an eyebrow at him. “I  _ was  _ still planning on getting paid for that.” 

He took a moment to swallow his food before answering. “I put it to good use.” One corner of his mouth twitched the slightest bit, almost forming into a smirk. He turned his head to look out at the singing towers, and then focused his gaze back on her. 

River’s gasp turned into a short, startled laugh. She looked out at the towers and the red sunset, back at the restaurant, covered in dazzling lights, and finally at the Doctor, his expression alight with amusement. 

“You did all of this?” 

His smile widened. “Consider it Christmas present number two.” 

River recovered enough to shake her head. “With my money. Typical.” 

The Doctor frowned at her retort, raising his eyebrows. “I don’t think many husbands would create a restaurant just so that they could take their wife on a date, do you?” 

“No,” she murmured, finding her gaze drawn to the towers again. The music was stronger than ever; a beautiful, intricate melody that was already becoming so familiar to River. “In fact, I can only think of one man who would.” 

* * *

They spoke of happier things then: remembering old adventures, relating impossible tales, commenting on the quality of the food. Eventually they grew silent, their heads turned toward the singing towers. The crimson sun cast the monoliths in a radiant light, somehow heightening the effect of the enchanting music. 

“Do you remember Queen Victoria’s ball?” River’s voice remained reverently quiet. 

It took the Doctor a moment to recall the memory. At the name  _ Queen Victoria  _ so many instances flashed through his mind, but he finally pinpointed the occasion River spoke of. 

“The Queen was almost turned into a Cyberman,” he stated, remembering the panic and terror. It had been his fault, but it had all worked out in the end. 

“Your fault,” River said as if she could hear his thoughts. “I insisted we should find the Cybermat, you said it was fine.” 

“I was…” The Doctor stared down at his hands as more detailed memories flowed into his mind’s eye. “…occupied.” 

_ “It’s just one Cybermat, dear,” the Doctor insisted. “It can’t do any harm on its own.”  _

__ _ River looked back at him with a resigned sigh. “As long as you’re sure.”  _

__ _ “I’m always sure.” He smiled at her as they danced; well, maybe  _ attempted  _ to dance was the right phrase. He wasn’t really sure what this dance was or how it went, so he just made up footwork along the way and River followed him. And yet, she still looked at him like he was perfect.  _

__ _ This was a much younger River, he had realized when he had run into her (quite literally). When he had first slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close as the music began, he had heard her heart racing, seen the faint blush in her cheeks, felt her hand tremble against his. He wouldn’t be surprised if this was the first time she had danced with him.  _

__ _ And that was why, just this once, he had to ignore the danger, if only for a moment longer.  _

__ _ Of course a Cybermat was dangerous, but he didn’t want to rush into saving the day. Right now, all he wanted to do was dance with River Song and live up to the man she thought he was.  _

“Trying to remember how to dance? And failing?” 

River’s teasing voice pulled the Doctor from the memory and he looked over at her bright smile. Right now she looked much like she had that night: her hair done up, a dark dress hugging her frame, her eyes filled with a complex combination of emotions that the Doctor couldn’t quite understand. Her beauty had stunned him as much back then as it did now, though in his last body he had stuttered and stammered, blushing and feeling just a little bit scared as he held her so close. Now he just couldn’t stop staring at her, like she was the most beautiful work of art he had ever seen. But she was more than that; she was River,  _ his  _ River. 

“Something like that,” the Doctor muttered, trying to recover from his thoughts. He didn’t often get carried away with his emotions, but River’s presence had always seemed to overwhelm him and muddle his thought processes. Apparently, it was no different in this body. 

“You were a terrible dancer.”

The Doctor remembered again her awed expression as she gazed at him. He was almost positive now that it had been one of her first dates with him. “You didn’t mind,” he quipped back, finding his lips twitching into a teasing smile. 

“I  _ did,  _ but…” River smiled, her eyes looking past him. “It was the first time you ever danced with me.” 

He was right, then. “I know. You were shaking.”

She trained her gaze back on him. “So were you.” 

The Doctor tried to hide his smile, turning back to the towers. River was one step ahead of him, as always.

“I’m better at dancing now,” he told her, though as he spoke the words he wasn’t quite sure how he knew. Something itched in the back of his mind, a memory of a dilapidated ballroom and minor waltz playing on an old, forgotten organ. 

He stopped the scene in its tracks, knowing that it would never be complete. He would never remember the face of the girl that had danced with him.

“Now  _ that,  _ my love, is something I have to see.” 

The Doctor watched as River stood, walked around the table, and extended her hand towards him. The Doctor stared at it, glanced at the towers, and then looked into River’s eyes. 

“I don’t think there’s a dance that goes with it,” he said with a nod at the towers. 

Her hand remained, palm up, waiting. “Then we’ll make up our own. It’s not like we’ve ever gone by the rules anyway.” 

Of course she was right. She always was. 

The Doctor got to his feet and grasped River’s right hand in his left, leading her away from the table and towards the edge of the balcony. He turned to face her, and River copied his movement. The Doctor slid his arm around her waist and held her gingerly at a safe distance. River smirked at him and took another step forward so that they were almost toe-to-toe. 

The Doctor raised his eyebrows at her. “Not much room for error.” He nudged his foot against hers to prove his words. 

River, grinning now, placed her hand on the back of his neck. “That’s  _ exactly  _ how I like it. “ 

The Doctor realised, not for the first time, that River had the remarkable talent of being able to make anything she said sound like an innuendo. He told himself  _ that  _ was why he felt prickles of heat in his cheeks and  _ that  _ was why he felt his stomach flip. But while he knew River’s love of making him feel uncomfortable was part of it, he couldn’t deny that he was just a little bit afraid like he had been that night at Queen Victoria’s ball. Once again he found River Song looking at him with a sort of wonder and amazement, like he was the burning sun in the sky. 

He wondered if he would ever shatter her vision of him. Could he truly live up to everything she expected him to be? 

Maybe not. But he could try. 

The Doctor took a step back. River mirrored him. And while the song of the singing towers wasn’t steady or regular, somehow they still danced in time across the balcony. 

_ The story of our lives,  _ the Doctor thought to himself. Nothing about their relationship had ever been remotely normal, and yet here they were, married, dancing, loving each other after all this time. They had made it work; it was their dance. 

River smiled up at him, seeming to be glowing in the magnificent light of the blazing sun behind her. The Doctor felt her pinky finger caress his ring finger and slide over the wedding band he wore there, as if asking the silent question:  _ Is this what I think it is?  _ He glanced over at their intertwined fingers and then focused back on her face. He felt his lips curve into a small smile. 

“Yes. You know, I  _ am  _ a married man.” 

River matched his grin and used her hand on his neck as an anchor to pull herself fully against him in a sort of embrace, leaning her head on his shoulder. Their feet halted, though they swayed back and forth in an imaginary rhythm. River’s fingers toyed with the Doctor’s curls as he bent down to place a kiss on the crown of her head. 

And in that moment, the Doctor wasn’t afraid anymore. 


End file.
